


Aatma Ballet: Soul ballet

by m_erxsa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Dunno where the story is gonna be set so bear with me, Gen, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith is michevious (voltron), Lance is pretty much a sweetheart (voltron), Minor Character Death, Movie Adaptation, OC's - Freeform, People are Dicks, Rivalry, Slow Burn, their families are pretty religious, unsupportive families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26438929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_erxsa/pseuds/m_erxsa
Summary: Keith Kogane is your average naughty teen with a grandeur complex while Lance McClain is quite the contrary: a hardworking and well disciplined lad.Both have talent, one takes it for granted while the other doesn't.Oh rivalry, here you are again.Or the story of two talented dancers who reach for the stars no matter how hard it may be to get there.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron)
Kudos: 3





	1. Introduction.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the motion picture (based on a true story): Yeh Ballet.

Every morning the sun would shine over the city's buildings and bathe them in its golden rays of light. That would make their large crystal windows sparkle and reflect rainbows from time to time over the sidewalks.

The streets would be busy and crowded since first thing in the morning, everyone had places to go, places to see. The ocean could clearly be seen from the distance, cars driving over it on the long designed bridge that led to the next city.

But that's not exactly our boys' neighbourhood. In fact, not even close.

Diving deeper into the city, into the crowded market and small row houses all stuck so close together you'd be able to hear your neighbour sneeze and it's cat meow at ungodly hours. Deeper into the city where the streets aren't exactly streets but most are roads of dirt and yet it's people are lively. So lively.

The music pounds out of a speaker left beside a group of boys, all huddled closely beside each other while they roar and holler with laughter. They applaud along to the beat of the song while their heads bob, their feet swift but their eyes never look away from the ones performing in the centre.


	2. Who's the king of the land?

_Slap._

The sound of a palm against Keith's soft cheek resonated in the small bedroom. 

"How many more times will you have to be scolded for you to understand that taking part in other faith's festivals and rituals is forbidden?"

Keith's cheek stung but his glare remained steadily set over his Uncle. Didn't falter, not even for a second. "Blood is all the same colour, isn't it though?"

"Keith, son -" 

Keith's father began, but then was abruptly cut off by his uncle, "Don't you dare come crying to me for help when they're after your blood, nephew." The man continued to talk as he made his way towards the exit, "Teach your son some respect! You're raising a good for nothing, brother."

His brother older brother, Kareem had walked in by the time their uncle had left the house still on about the subject, only to find his father worriedly ranting as he always did after every single one of his uncle's visits. 

"It's not that I'm scared of my older brother, son. It's just - we must respect him."

"Of course you're scared!" Keith turned towards Kareem, looking for backup. "Tell father that the whole we're all brothers thing doesn't make sense if it's prohibited to hang around at the other's festivals." 

Kareem simply blinked, looking like a deer in the headlights between his father and youngest sibling. "Uh, well I think -"

"Don't forget we're only surviving thanks to your uncle's help, Keith." His mother cut in.

"Yeah, well when I'm older we won't need him." 

The woman sighed in discontent, focusing her attention once again on the dishes she'd been washing before joining the discussion. "We'll be happy if you just stay out of jail, do as your brothers do."

It was right at that moment that Keith's insides started to boil. He walked towards his mother and with a scowl on his face slapped a wad of bills over the counter. 

The woman suddenly looked taken aback whilst staring at the money in front of her, mouth agape. She shot a glance of concern towards her husband, who simply shrugged just as confused about the newfound money as she was. Keith had left the house before they were able to start questioning him. 

-

This was part of his routine. He'd meet up with the boys at the abandoned building every Friday before sunset and they'd talk. They'd just mess around, joke and play a game or two. They'd set an old television on the corner, along with an old beat-up sofa and another few old and unwanted furniture they'd picked up from the streets some time ago. They had made that crumbling structure their own, it had become their secluded get-away place, as they called it.

"Our shorty here turned out to be Spiderman, huh?" 

"Killer moves, spidey-boy."

Keith had managed to redirect his friends' teasing towards Agi, who found himself panting loudly as he reached the last set of stairs. "- Oh, look at him! He's glowing!" He gestured at Agi's hair with a smirk.

Luca cackled, "What did you do to your hair, man? Did you go to a salon?" He teased. 

Agi frowned, round face scrunching up, "No, your father tried his hand." Hollers and laughter followed soon after. 

"If you look at it from this angle, it looks like he got his hair stuck in a toilet bowl." 

"Maybe for three hours or so -"

"What a moron." Agi spat, then proudly gestured towards his new coloured hairstyle. "This is called golden yellow." 

"Shit's golden yellow too," Keith added with a snicker. "Change your name from Agivan to Shitvan."

"Oh, very funny. In that case, you should change your name too, Shith."

"Hey, I'm allowed to dye my hair, I dance hip-hop." 

"Is it like a state rule or somethin'? Only dancers can have two-toned hair?"

"It suits you, mate," Dsan said after taking a drag from his cigarette, without even looking up from his poker game.

Agi slapped Keith over the head before taking a seat next to him. He looked over at the old TV, the show that played having caught his attention.

"Who's the newbie?" He asked after a few minutes of silence.

The boys turned towards the TV at Agi's comment. To Keith's surprise, Luca hadn't changed the channel yet. That was also part of their routine even if Luca thought the program was dumb, they'd watch Dance danse competition and harshly critique every single contestant - which would, of course, boost Keith's ego up to the sky.

"The guy's good."

Dsan nodded, Keith frowned.

And yeah, the guy was good. But Keith wouldn't ever admit that out loud. He just silently observed how the boy moved on stage, jumping here and there, a back-flip once and again, doing a trick or two... his legs and arms were clearly toned and -

"He's just jumping around, what's the big deal?" Keith snickered while looking back to his poker game.

"He's a great dancer," Agi turned towards Keith and added, "No hip-hop hair like yours. Let's see you brag now, monkey."

"You're a good dancer but you've still got miles to go compared to this dude, spidey."

The contestant landed on his feet from a trick he recognized to be the one he'd spend all day yesterday practising with no avail.

"He didn't fall over as our shorty did!" 

The teasing had begun once again.

-

Lance sucked in a breath as he finished his performance. The crowd roared, the judges clapped and Lance had his hopes up to the skies. His smile wouldn't falter though his high had started to fade and exhaustion had started to set in instead. 

Time had come to announce the winners of the first round of the Dance danse competition, the dancers were all called to the stage. Lance's palms were sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead, stomach fluttering nervously. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," The host spoke as the crowd cheered. "The finalists of the _Dance danse_ competition are..."

The girl standing beside him suddenly took his hand in hers and squeezed it, Lance looked over at her with slight concern but refrained of pulling away from a pretty girl's hand on national TV.

"Alisha and Omar!" the host announced, Lance's throat turned dry. 

The crowd's cheers felt like a million miles away from where he stood, a fake smile plastered on his features, his hands clapping robotically as he watched the two winners celebrate between the two in total glee.

Lance glanced with a slight pout at the contestants standing near him whilst clapping, all with the same look of exhaustion and disappointment upon their features as he probably had.

A few seconds had passed before the host addressed the crowd once again. "Aren't we missing something, though?"

"I think we are." One of the judges spoke, a smile plastered on her face caked with makeup a few tones lighter than her natural skin colour. Lance cringed.

"There's still one more price, isn't there?"

"Destiny's hat!" The crowd roared.

The girl squeezed Lance's hand again, this time he looked down at her with half a smile. It's the least he could do, after all, she probably felt as shitty as he did.

"That's right. Destiny's hat goes to the person who set the dance floor on fire, but he or she who showed the most potential did not make it to the next round..."

"So the king of Destiny's hat is..."

Lance's eyebrow twitched at the torturing silence, eating at his insides after he'd put so much effort into his choreography... all the troubles he went through to get on stage, and now - he wasn't gonna make it. He was so sure of it.

"Lance McClain!"

_What?_

At the mention of his name, Lance returned to focus on his surroundings a bit confused. The crowd was cheering again before he knew it, the girl beside him engulfing him in a tight hug whilst he just blinked in disbelief as he returned the hug. 

"Congratulations, Lance!"

He blinked, "Thanks?" 

"I thought you deserved to be the finalist, Lance. But I was overruled by my colleagues here." At that, the caked-face jury scowled. 

"I believe hard work and dreams are two sides of the same coin. Fate sides with the person who works hard to fulfil their dreams, whether it's the son of a businessman..." The jury gestured towards Lance with half a smile, "or the son of a taxi driver." 

-

"Where did you learn all that?"

Just as Lance had started to make his way back home after the show, a man had approached him at the alleyway. 

Lance frowned, "On my phone." 

The man blinked unamused, "What?"

"On YouTube."

"Yes, I know what you meant! Are you serious, though?"

Lance slowly nodded, "Yes."

The man took a few seconds to himself before nodding as well, "Wow, okay." He took a business card out of his pocket before clearing his throat, "We offer funk jazz, lyrical jazz, hip hop, classical ballet, contemporary dance. You can learn it all." 

Lance stared at the card for a few seconds before taking it between his fingers. He looked up at the man with an appalled expression on his face, no words could leave his mouth. 

"We charge a hundred a month." 

Lance choked, "Oh. I can't - I can't pay that."

The man gave him a quizzical look, "With some training, you could reach the stars, kid."

After a few seconds of silence from Lance's part, the man sighed. "Keep the card. We might be able to ... make you some kind of offer, pass by sometime, ask for Balin" 

Lance nodded, head hanging low matching his spirits. 

"... A famous French teacher is coming to teach at the academy, y'know? Pierre Belair, your life will change. Think it over."

-

"Hi, momma." 

Lance walked into his house and headed towards the petite woman who sat near the kitchen's window sewing clothes. He pressed a soft kiss over her head with care, she turned to him with a smile. 

"How was the test?"

"Aced it, of course."

"Good, good."

"Where's my sister?"

His mother gestured towards the balcony without looking up. 

After a long tiring day, Adanya would always be his safe place. Lance hurriedly walked towards the balcony, peeking his head through the doorway with a wide smile on his face. 

"Did you see the show?" He whispered.

His younger sister's striking blue eyes met his, rosy cheeks along with her smile. She nodded. "Of course." She whispered back.

"The whole show?"

"End to end!"

"Did you like it?"

"I did," She shrugged, "but I think the judges were bribed though."

"Hey!" Their mother called, "Quit whispering over there and hang the clothes out!"

The pair looked at each other with mischievous smiles, then continued to do as told although soon after, were distracted by the arrival of their father. 

The man walked into the house, tiredly dragging his feet as he usually did after a long day of work. 

"Welcome home, father!" Lance swiftly made his way to his father side, smile fading as soon as he noticed the older man's scowl. That was an unusual look in his father.

Adanya on the other side approached his father in a hug unaware of his foul mood. The man hugged her back even though he refrained from smiling. 

"So," He spoke with a booming deep voice, "where's that hat that people in the neighbourhood have been on and on about, Lance?"

Lance's blood ran cold at his father's cold stare. 

"Uh... it's -"

"Destiny's hat!" Adanya laughed nervously, reaching for the golden coloured hat in Lance's backpack and handing it to his father to see. 

Their shoulders were tense as their father studied said object without emitting a word yet. He turned it around in his hands, looked at it up and down, then looked over at his wife who had just entered the room with a laundry basket at her hip.

"Your son was a star on TV?"

The woman widened her eyes, then looked at Lance with a nervous and questioning gaze. 

"So, what does that hat do? Does your destiny change when you wear it?" The man mocked, sitting at the couch, "You should've gotten one for me too. Why work all day driving people around day and night if I can have my destiny changed just like that."

"No, Dad. Only talented people can win this hat, and Lance -"

"I don't give a damn! Will that hat feed him? Will it feed his wife and kids?"

"- He's not even married." 

"Who will pay for your medicines?" Adanya was cut off by her father once more.

Lance stood motionless, throat dry as he listened to his father speak.

Adanya looked at her mother in a pleading way, to which the woman simply obliged. "Your father is right."

Their father took a deep breath before standing up. He took a step towards his son, looking down at him with disappointment. 

"I - I got a standing ovation in the countries biggest dancing competition show and yet -"

"It's your call, Lance."


	3. Destiny's witty hat.

"Hand one, hand two. Hand one, hand two. Hand one, hand two..."

Luca laughed, "You're gonna fall over, Keithy boy."

"Hand one, hand two. Hand one, hand two. Hand one -"

"Shut the fuck up, shorty!"

"What's the matter, Keith? Cassette got stuck?"

Keith let out a breath as he came down to stand on his feet, rubbing his now dirty hands over his pants. "Y'all a bunch of idiots."

The guys laughed at Keith's angered reply.

"Who're you calling an idiot?" Agivan struggled to stand up on the pipe where they all sat sharing a joint. Keith turned towards Agi and watched as he attempted to stand on his hands, just as Keith had a few seconds ago before they ruined his mood.

"Go on, go on and show him." Luca laughed. 

Agi was only able to attempt the stunt two times, for after that he'd slipped off the pipe only to fall into the water below them. The boys were all cackling by the time Agivan had resurfaced from the water, cussing at them from below. 

Keith glanced at them in annoyance before looking down at Agi in the water, "Who asked you to try, fatso?"

"My arm must be broken!" Agi wailed. 

"Let's help him up." Keith urged with an annoyed sigh. 

-

Pierre Belair had not had a great flight. He had been fifteen hours sitting uncomfortably next to an old drooling woman who would hug him in her sleep, and at the time, he had been waiting for his chauffeur for approximately an hour now. 

Pierre Belair was about to explode. 

Two hours had passed. He didn't even want to look at his watch and realise that maybe he's been waiting longer than he thinks. And he spends his time watching people walk by. Different colours, different heights, different body shapes. Strange smells. His feet ache, his stomach grumbles, his mouth is dry. 

A lifetime later - Pierre assumes due to the empty airport - a man heads his way holding a sign with his name on it. 

"Mr Belair?"

"Yes and you are two hours late."

"I'm extremely very sorry, sir. Too much traffic."The man leaned down to pick up his bags, "metro digging, here digging, there digging." He gestured towards a parked car, "Please, this way sir. We are late!"

"You know, sir," The man spoke as he drove. Anxiety settled in Pierre's stomach, the man drove too slow for his liking. "The first word tourists learn when coming to -"

"Shut up and keep your eyes on the road. We're two hours late and all you do is talk and talk and talk. I am not a tourist, drive faster!"

It had started raining by the time the chauffeur had dropped him off at the... Pierre didn't even know what place was it. It looked nothing like the flat they'd promised to give him. 

A pair of drunk men sitting on the sidewalk stared at him as he walked into the building. 

"Slowly, sir" The man who walked him in instructed as he avoided stepping on the people who slept on the floor. There wasn't much for Pierre to glare at in the darkness of the room, so he settled on following the man to his bedroom, four walls, no windows, one bed and a sink on the corner, a mirror above said sink. 

Pierre turned to the man with fury in his eyes. "My battery is dead. I need a phone."

"Reception area is closed, sir. Phone call only in the morning, sir."

"Anything to eat? food?"

"Sir, this time it is too much late, sir. All shop, market, hotel... All closed, sir."

Pierre looked at the man with disbelief, "Water?"

"Tap water, sir. Water bottle, cold drink are locked in reception fridge, sir. Manager taking the key, sir." 

A few excruciating minutes passed before the man spoke again, wary of Pierre's death glare. "But sir, any problem, my name is Lebhras, sir. You are welcome to -"

"Fuck off!"

"Enjoy your trip, sir."

-

"Pierre, why won't you believe me? It was a genuine mistake."

Balin turned to the chauffeur and spoke in a foreign language for Pierre, "This Israeli guesthouse was your idea? Are you stupid?"

"I'm sorry, boss. I thought -"

Balin cleared his throat, then looked back at Pierre nodding. "He told me about it. He thought that maybe the first night you'd be more comfortable... with your own kind."

"My own kind? Do I look like an Israeli hippie backpacker to you?" Pierre spat in anger and with a swing of his hand sent his coffee cup flying off the table.

The chauffeur stood up in alarm, "He's mental boss, why humour him?"

"His white skin will attract students. Would I bother with his white arse otherwise?"

Pierre stared at the two with a quizzical look as he attempted to guess what the pair were talking about. 

Balin sat down after picking up the spilled coffee from the floor.

"Pierre," He sighed, looking into the foreigner's eyes. "It was... a genuine... mistake." 

Pierre's pale skin flared red, "You know what was the genuine mistake? Coming here, that is! I want to speak to the boss."

People at the diner subtly stole glances towards their table in curiosity. Balin took a deep breath, he was growing impatient. 

"I am the boss. There is no other boss. Ok? The boss is on a world tour. Who recruited you? I did! I am the boss."

"This is not your company! My contract is not with you!"

Balin turned towards his chauffeur and switched to their native tongue before speaking, "Not even a good dog wants him here and here he is acting like he's Elvis Presley."

"What did you say?" 

"Oh, nothing. He just thinks you look like Elvis Presley." Balin chuckled, then, before Pierre could protest any further, he took his hand in his and shook it. "Great having you," He turned towards his chauffeur. "Take him to his flat."

"Understood, boss."

-

Lance's father had reached from his wallet before pulling out money and handing it to his son. "For your books." He had said, but as soon as the man had turned away, the look he shared with his sister made him realise that this was once again an opportunity to follow his dreams. 

So now he stood in front of the secretary's desk at the dance academy Balin had talked to him about a few days ago after the dancing competition. 

"It's fifty short. I'll pay later."

The man at the desk counted the bills. Lance's anxiousness ate at him from the inside, his chest fluttering and so, he broke the silence. "Will I get a scholarship next month?"

The secretary laughed, "Easy boy, let me at least finish with the pizza delivery guy first."

Lance nodded, tapping his foot impatiently. Next to him stood a pizza delivery man, probably only a few years older than him. He didn't pay much mind to him. 

"Keep the change."

"Thanks," He turned to the secretary before leaving, "I'll tell my brother to come!"

Finally, the secretary looked over at Lance, the boy with the giddy smile and trembling fingers, "Polish up! There's still time for a scholarship. You're not gonna become Anna Pavlova overnight."

Lance's face fell. The secretary grimaced. 

"I'll give you a discount."

Lance giddy's smile returned.

"And here," The man threw a piece of black fabric at him, which he barely caught. "Butt shorts. Do well and you'll get a full scholarship."

-

Keith was abruptly dragged out of his dancing circle by his brother holding a tight grip to his arm.

"What the fuck, man? You can't just drag me out -"

"You know the dancing academy on 26th street? I make deliveries there." 

"So?"

"I told them my youngest sibling is a solid dancer, they said 'bring him.' If you get selected, classes are totally free."

Keith stared at Kareem with disbelief, "What about school?"

Kareem slapped him over the head, "Will school shut down without you?"

"I can learn on my own. Classes are shit." 

Kareem grabbed his younger brother by his shirt and pulled him towards him. _It is the only way to get him out of this shithole, _he reminded himself. "This is your last chance, Keith. You rather dance your life away with these losers?" He gestured towards the group of boys who remained at the dancing circle. "Do you rather keep dealing with those thugs? Don't act so surprised, money doesn't show up from thin air. I knew you were involved with those fucks."__

____

-

____

"This is studio two. And that," The girl gestured, "would be the locker room." She paused, turning to Kareem with a confused expression on her face. "Is your brother okay? He doesn't look too happy being here."

____

Kareem glanced at Keith and immediately recognised that the boy was in his usual foul mood. 

____

"Yeah, he's fine. It's just his first day, that's all. He'll cheer up when he hits the dancefloor." 

____

The girl smiled politely and nodded. Her attention focused on a tan boy who just walked past the group, she grabbed at his arm and the boy immediately turned. 

____

"This is Lance, the star!" The girl introduced the tan boy excitedly. "He won destiny's hat!"

____

Oh. Keith thought. 

____

"You're the guy who lost the first round?"

____

Lance's smile faltered. 

____

"Loser." Keith snickered. 

____

In a swift movement, the girl stepped between the boys with a nervous smile plastered on her face. "Well, it's getting late! We should move on!"

____


	4. Ballet d'horreur

"Pierre is God." The girl, who Lance now knew her name to be Allura, explained. 

Lance gave her an amused smile and shrugged, "Sorry, I don't even know who he is."

"Pierre teaches big-shot dancers and he's coming to our academy!" She sighed dreamily, "I'm so nervous."

Lance nodded in understanding, diverting his eyes towards the other students passing by. He considered it to be crowded this early in the morning, but maybe that was just how it always is and he's just not aware of it. 

"What is ballet?" He suddenly felt the urge to ask.

Allura raised her brows looking at the boy in disbelief. "It's 't' silent, only 'balley.'"

"Boys and girls!" Balin walked into the academy, calling for the dancer's attention. Behind him stood a tall, thin man with greasy blond hair, long pointed nose, pale skin and piercing, angered blue eyes. 

"Pierre Blair is in the house!" Balin announced.

And it's not as if Lance had any previous time to imagine how this big-of-a-deal guy Pierre would look like, but he sure wasn't expecting a tall and lanky middle-aged man with an expression so sour, Lance could guess he had lemons for breakfast. 

The class clapped with little to no enthusiasm, to which Balin immediately scolded in their native tongue. "Clap louder now, kids." He pressured, and with a forced smile then turned towards Pierre. "They're very excited, you see? Can't wait." 

As the student's clapping ceased, Balin sighed, "C'mon. Let me give you the grand tour."

"Fuck your tour, come to my apartment. Look at the windows, look at the bed. I can't sleep, I feel like shit."

"I'm so sorry, I'll have that looked into immediately. You focus on teaching and I'll worry about the rest." 

-

"Demi plié, demi plié, grand plié. Take your arm up in fifth, tendu en croix. Front side, backside. First, first, fifth..." 

Lance silently stared through the window that led to the studio in which Pierre had been assigned to teach. The senior class. He felt a flutter in his stomach as he observed, he couldn't understand a word in Pierre's instructions but he knew, he knew that he'd learn in time and that everything would be just fine. But still, he couldn't simply shake away the growing anxiousness in his chest. He wanted to be there, holding the bar, following instructions. Dancing.

With a deep sigh, Lance looked away only to notice that same rude guy from earlier sitting on the floor, his back leaned against the wall as he played with his fingers. He looked bored. Lance wondered if the boy could even dance. His body was small as of a dancer's, but still, he didn't give Lance much of a dancer impression. Witty comebacks, foul attitude, bad posture... The guy looked like a jerk.

Lance preferred to focus back on the class he wishes he were in. 

The music had begun and Lance wouldn't deny that Allura looked gracious with every move she made. Fluent, yet precise. Her white hair tied neatly into a bun at the top of her head, her long arms moving delicately and her features so focused on what she was doing. 

Lance thought she was doing great. 

On the contrary, if you lent a gun to Pierre Belair, he'd probably shoot himself right between the eyes without any hesitation. From his point of view, the class was a mess. Not a single student seemed to know what they were doing, each moving at their own timing, bad postures, bad technique, a disaster. That's all Pierre could see. 

"Stop, stop immediately! That is enough! This is not ballet!" 

The music stopped, the students stood motionless in their places as they stared at their teacher with a doubtful look in their eyes. 

A tan boy with curly hair above his shoulders raised his hand before speaking, "Contemporary company sir, not ballet."

"I was told you learnt ballet."

"We did, we learnt. But - basic, basic ballet."

Pierre squinted as he took a few steps forward, "Who is this basic, basic donkey who taught you? And who made you a senior dancer?"

The boy blinked. 

Pierre sighed, "Commencez!"

The music began again. A horror movie to Pierre Belair's perspective. 

"Stop, stop! Waste of my time!" Pierre walked out of the dance studio flaring, turning to Balin with a reddened face, "Waste of time!" 

Balin rubbed at his temples, "I pay you to teach. You're not in Bolshoi."

Lance watched the scene unfold from where he stood. Pierre had just started to walk away in a frenzy when mullet boy had decided to stretch his leg forward, a mischievous smile on his lips as he did so. Pierre was unmistakenly sent to the floor with a loud thud, his surroundings going foggy as he hit the ground.

-

"Give him some air," 

Pierre awoke with a pack of ice pressed to his face and around seven sets of eyes staring at him from above. He was still on the floor, it appeared. And yet, he had only one thing in mind. 

"The foot." Pierre exhaled, sitting straight up with a lost gaze. 

Balin leaned down, head level with Pierre, "Pierre... you've had a bit of a shock."

"The foot that tripped me. Find it."

A few minutes later, students were lined up in the dance studio against the bars, legs stretched out as Pierre slowly walked through, examining each foot he passed by with curiosity in his eyes. 

Lance was nervous. Would they punish the boy? Would they kick him out? Many possibilities wandered through his head in anxiousness. 

Keith, the other way around, was rather excited about getting kicked out. That hadn't been his intention, nevertheless, it wasn't bad. Or so he thought. When Pierre came to a halt in from of him, fear suddenly seeped through his veins. His chest fluttered with anxiousness, what was he supposed to expect now?

Pierre leaned down, then took his foot in his hand and examined it closely.

Keith's muscles tensed. 

"You," Pierre said, "Boy who tripped me. Come to my company class tomorrow."

As soon as Pierre had walked away, Keith turned towards the guy standing next to him at a total loss, "What did he say?" 

"He's selected you for the senior class." A young girl explained behind him. 

"Lucky bugger!" Balin laughed, "Collect your butt shorts from the office."

-

"Hey, Allura." Lance sat next to the girl, disappointed at heart from the scene he'd just witnessed a few minutes ago. "What's this ballet?"

Allura sighed, "It's 't' silent."

"Okay then, balley."

Allura offered a gentle smile, Lance's heart could've easily been swooned by it if he didn't know better than to focus solely on his achieving his dreams. 

"Ballet is this amazing thing. It's the most beautiful dances of them all, it's like an angel flying. " Allura sighed dreamily, "It can be heaven in a dream - but only in a dream. In reality, it makes you weep. For those who practise it, it's like reaching the Everest's peak." She motioned towards the poster hanging on the wall of two dancers on pas du deux. 

Lance stared at the poster in silence. 

"I'll reach the peak," He decided. 

Allura held back a laugh, "You?"

"What?" Lance looked back at her with a frown.

"Take a box of tissues with you so you can wipe your tears in the journey."

Lance's frown turned into a pout. Allura's chest clenched. Maybe she'd been too harsh. 

"Okay," She sighed. "I can teach you the basics of the ballet of you want it that much."

Lance nearly jumped from his seat in excitement, "Really?" 

"Sure. Come to my place, we'll practise at my studio."

"Your studio?"

"Yeah. It's in the basement, so no one really ever bothers me there. So decide, will you come?"

Lance blinked a couple of times before rapidly nodding his head, "Yes, of course, I will."

"Great, it's settled then!" Allura smiled. 

-

"Et jeté, jeté. First, first, fifth..."

Keith's head felt as if it were going to explode. All he could do while the old man gave instructions was stare at the slowly ticking clock that hung above the studio's doors. He'd tried to follow the other dancers at first but gave up very soon after. 

He felt stupid, This was stupid. If he weren't standing up, he probably would've fallen asleep on the floor by now. Everybody seemed to know what they were doing except for Keith, it appeared. 

"Tendu, tendu, détourner. Tournez!" Pierre slowly made his way towards Keith as he continued to speak. He'd seen the boy simply standing next to the bar, staring at nothing since a while ago. In a way, he was disappointed. 

The music came to a stop as Pierre stood beside Keith, arms crossed. "Tournez, boy!"

Keith remained in the same clumsy position as he was before as he attempted to stare the man down with a furious glare. 

To Keith's surprise, the man slapped his arse with the towel he had in hand since the beginning of the class. Uneager about doing as told, Keith slowly turned around to face the other side of the studio as all other students had done already. 

"And squeeze your butt!"

"Squeeze your butt." The guy behind him translated, only for Pierre to repeat what he had said, now in the boy's native tongue. A chorus of laugher followed soon after.

"Silence!" Pierre demanded, then turned to Keith once again. "No coloured hair is permitted here. This is ballet, not a circus... and cut your hair!"

Keith didn't flinch when the man grabbed at his hair. Instead, he pushed his hand away. "Balls I'll cut my hair, old goat." He scoffed. 

"What did he say?"

"..."

"..."

"Never mind, I don't want to know." Pierre sighed, "Again! Un, deux, trois, quatz..."

-

_Taking part in other belief's traditions is forbidden! _His uncle would've frantically said if he ever saw him at a birthday reunion. But the sting he's felt in his skin after his uncle's scoldings would never be enough for him to make him stop showing up places where he could dance and dance until he got home exhausted, not willing to move from wherever he decided would be his napping spot that day.__

____

Music blared in Keith's ears, fluttering in his chest. His lungs filled with air, his aching feet moved with ease and his muscles burned but he wouldn't ever deny that he loved every second of it. He found himself deeply enamoured with the feeling of dancing freely on the streets, not a care in the world, no Pierre to tell him what to do or not do. 

____

This was the feeling he fell in love with since a young age. 

____

Dancing is his passion.

____


	5. Boy with the long name.

Classical music playing lowly in the background certainly soothed Lance's nerves. He'd walked past the Altea's household for about two times, unsure if he had the right address until he decided to ring on the doorbell. 

He was welcomed by a redheaded butler with a moustache and a giddy attitude, who led him downstairs to the basement, where Allura sat waiting for him at her studio as she'd promised. The house was bigger and fancier than what Lance had imagined. The studio was better than the one they had at the academy - Allura was right. It was spacious and had good lighting, the music could be heard all over the room, it was perfect. 

Now they both stood in front of the wall-lengthed mirror whilst the silver-haired girl taught him of basic ballet positions. 

She playfully slapped his hands and brought them to the correct position above his head. "This is the fifth position." 

Lance nodded, Allura sighed, "And you'll have to learn to balance yourself." 

"Give me your hands." 

Lance's brows furrowed but he eventually complied and held his hands out to the girl in front of him. 

By the end of the day, they'd committed to practising ballet on Allura's basement at every chance they could. 

-

"Usually..." Pierre sighed, "I only teach advanced students but here, I am forced to teach all of you. So it really makes no difference to me, you are all equally mediocre. Understand?"

Lance breathed, once again nerves settling on his stomach. Patiently, he followed the steps Allura had taught him during the week while following the music, a faint smile playing at his lips until - 

"Stop!" Pierre's booming voice was heard. 

The whole class had eyes on the blond man as he walked towards someone, about two people ahead from Lance. 

"You - boy who tripped me," Lance's eyebrow twitched in irritation after he realised whom Pierre was referring at, "what is your name?"

"Keith Akira Kogane." The boy replied with spite, glancing away without any interest. 

Pierre sighed, then turned towards the class in general, "Tell this boy with a long name that he's got a decent body for ballet." He gestured, "arms, legs, torso, feet."

Lance's jaw tensed. 

"The only thing missing is discipline." 

Keith rolled his eyes. 

"You can have all the talent in the world but if you have no discipline, you cannot and will not ever be a ballet dancer. Understood?" Pierre turned towards another student, "translate."

A boy with a nervous stance nodded, "He says your hair is too long," He spoke in their native tongue. Keith's thick eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and a side of confusion, he hadn't caught that comment this time. 

The boy cleared his throat, "and that you have a decent ballet body but have no discipline. So you will never be a ballet dancer."

"And cut your hair," Pierre added. 

"Cut yours, old goat." 

The class erupted in laugher but Lance simply stared at the boy with a knot in his throat and a fire roaring in his stomach. He wanted to slap that snotty boy so bad. 

"Again, music!"

-

Walking up the stairs to their reunion spot, Keith's eye caught the man he'd seen many times now. Tall and skinny, scared face, dark hair. Imposing presence never the less. Or perhaps the only reason for his imposing presence was the gun hidden at his back - or his status in the cartel. 

The intimidating man-made Keith stop in his tracks merely for a few seconds before hurrying up to their get-away spot. And there the boys were, Agi, Luca and Dsan looking out the window as the man walked away, crossed the street, became a mere splotch in the distance. 

"Why was he here?" Keith broke the silence. 

"Boss has a job for us tonight." 

"How much?"

"Ten thousand each."

"Neat. Your arm's broken though," Keith pointed out at the cast. "You get five thou?"

Agi huffed, "It's only broken because of you, asshole." 

"I jump higher, run faster than you, I should be getting more." Keith teased with a snicker. 

"Tell you what, shorty," Luca spoke, "Put on your tight shorts and do some _balley balley_ for me, my full share is yours." 

Dsan held back a laugh.

"All your stuff will be on display, like the flora fountain statue!"

They laughed as they mocked ballet movements and positions at Keith, who's amused state had seemed to disappear. 

"Are you a pansy, shorty? A fairy?"

A chorus of hollers followed soon after. 

"Oh darling, kiss me, baby, kiss me." 

Keith's stoic expression faltered at the moment Agivan reached for his face, squished his cheeks and leaned forward in a mocking way towards his lips. 

"You better run, you fucking bastard!"

And Agi did, though it didn't take long for Keith to reach him.

"Are you mad? Let me go, mate!"

Keith had the boy cornered against the walls as he hit him, filled with raw emotion.

"He's just kidding!"

"Stop him, man! Can't he take a joke?"

Dsan had managed to grab Keith by the shoulders and pull him away from Agi. His breathing was shallow and his chest ached. 

"Fuck you and the fucking job! Stuff it up your ass!"

"Hey, hey, shorty -"

"I'm leaving!"

"See you at seven, shorty! Don't forget!"

"Flora Fountain statue!" Agi called from behind the boys. 

"Why do you even tease him like that?" Dsan sighed in disappointment. 

-

Keith didn't know why he had reacted that way but he did know that his friend's words stung to his core. And he didn't like being called a fairy, he doubted any closeted guy liked being called that anyway. But now he knew, he couldn't tell his friends, he couldn't -

"Even though you don't work... and don't deserve them." 

Pierre stood in front of him, a pair of slippers stretched towards Keith as he waited for him to take them. 

Keith took them hesitatingly before the man walked away, instructing for the class to get started. 

-

Lance was late. 

He was late and he was anxious and excited and nervous all at once. He'd waited all day to come and train, even if it was just for a few hours. 

He was proud of what he'd learned already, taking basic lessons with Allura sure had helped him improve and that precisely is what he's been so anxious to show off at class, more specifically, to Pierre. Maybe to try and catch his attention, of course. He's been working his ass off for that anyway. 

But Lance was pulled out of his thoughts when a guy stopped him from getting into the studio. 

"Where to?"

Lance squinted in confusion, "Class? I'm late for class."

"No ballet shoes, no ballet class. Those are the rules." 

Lance stood dumbfounded for a few seconds, close to panic before he suddenly remembered. "What about Keith? He doesn't have ballet shoes." He smirked. 

The guy looked towards the studio before turning to Lance again, "Seems to me like he does."

Lance blinked. _What? ___

__He sneaked a peek towards the studio and could see that, yes indeed. Keith had ballet shoes. _How infuriating._ _ _

__Lance cleared his throat, "but he didn't before."_ _

__"Well, he does now, Sherlock. Keith is Pierre's favourite student, not you. So go get some shoes if you wanna get into the class."_ _

___Fuck._ _ _

__"Fine. Will do."_ _

__Lance had walked away with a pang in his chest and anger in his insides. It all seemed to work perfectly fine for this Keith kid when from his perspective, the guy didn't want to be in the class. It should be him, it should be Lance in his place. With all the praising and attention._ _

__Lance stopped walking. Was he seriously jealous? He was jealous, oh boy._ _

__"Hey, Lance."_ _

__He recognised the voice from class. And as he turned towards it, he recognised the boy standing in front of him._ _

__"Antuan? Hi." Lance offered the boy a small, kind of forceful smile._ _

__Antuan smiled back a gentle smile. "I'm ashamed of admitting this, but I eavesdropped on your conversation with Miled and... here, I want you to take this."_ _

__Lance's eyes cast downwards to Antuan's hands. He was offering his slippers to Lance. His once tight chest warmed, his smile suddenly relaxed._ _

__"I think they may be a little big for you, but I guess you can fix that."_ _

__"But what about you -?"_ _

__Antuan smiled once again, "I'm done with ballet. Take them, I'm sticking with contemporary."_ _

__-_ _

__"Boy with the long name, you stay. We have to practice some more."_ _

__Keith was stopped from going out of the studio's doors by the hand of one of his classmates over his chest. Keith glared._ _

__"He wants you to stay and practise more."_ _

__"I can't, I've got work."_ _

__"But he says -"_ _

__"I gotta work."_ _

__Just as he was about to walk through the doors, he was met with his brother's burning gaze. Kareem stood with a pizza box on one hand and with the other, he pushed him back into the dance studio._ _

__"They're calling for you? Stay, you stay here. No work today."_ _

__Keith stood, speechless, dumbfounded. He blinked, "Are you kidding me? What are you even doing here?"_ _

__"Working, duh." He gestured towards the pizza._ _

__"I'm not staying here."_ _

__"Last chance, remember?"_ _

__Reluctant, Keith eventually surrendered and slowly walked back into the dance studio. Pierre waited patiently, sitting on a char with a tablet between his hands._ _

__"We're doing petit saut, come see."_ _

__From Keith's point of view, this was ridiculous. He felt ridiculous. Jumping, again and again, remaining in one place although honestly, he wasn't even trying. And it showed and he knew it showed cause he could see it in Pierre's irritated expression._ _

__"Again."_ _

__Is all Pierre would say._ _

__"Again."_ _

__His attempts at getting away had been in vain. It's as if the man knew Keith would go for it; as if he knew Keith would run for the door and so Pierre had managed to stop him for the second time now._ _

__"Damn you!"_ _

__"Stay, get it right. Again."_ _

__Thump, thump, thump._ _

__Keith's ears were going numb from the robotic, constant stomping sound of his feet against the wooden floor every single time they hit the ground._ _

__"Stop."_ _

__Keith did, with a sigh and turned towards Pierre with an annoyed look. If looks could kill, Pierre would've been six feet underground by now._ _

__"Turn your feet out, use your arms."_ _

__And again. One, two, one, two -_ _

__"Stop."_ _

__"Now what?" Keith spat._ _

__Pierre smiled._ _

__"Good."_ _

__For about half a second, Pierre thought that Keith's small smile was due to his approval, until the boy immediately turned to look at the clock, then back at him._ _

__"Are we done? Can I leave now?"_ _

__Despite the language barrier between them, Pierre understood what the boy was smiling at as soon as he took a step towards the doorway once again._ _

__"But now this, I'll teach you the sissonne."_ _

__Keith complied._ _

__The clock was ticking and now and then he'd glance at it and earn Pierre's yelling. But he couldn't focus on ballet any longer, he couldn't bother even pretending to care about the old guy. He was supposed to be on the job. Ten thousand at the palm of his hand in about an hour or two, he needed that money, he had to -_ _

__"Keith!"_ _

__Said boy was brought back into reality after hearing his name being called by a familiar voice._ _

__Kareem was standing at the door, a panicked expression upon his features, thick eyebrows alike his younger brother furrowed, sweat running down his forehead._ _

__"I'm sorry, sir. This is urgent."_ _

__Kareem took his younger brother's hand in his and proceeded to run outside the building, towards the parking lot, to his bike._ _

__Keith stopped abruptly, ragged breathing and a confused expression. "What's - what's going on? Did something happen?"_ _

__Anxiousness settled at his stomach as a result of his brother's pitiful look. Kareen breathed before speaking, "Dsan and Luca called, but you weren't home..."_ _

__Keith's throat tightened._ _

__"Agi was shot dead in an alley. I'm so sorry, Keith."_ _

__-_ _

__The ambient was as dull as it could've been._ _

__Whilst Agivan's body laid in the centre of the room, people around it whimpered and whispered. His eyes were closed, he had flowers surrounding all of his body and even though he looked peaceful, Keith knew better._ _

__Maybe Agi would torment him forever. He left him on the job, alone, without any backup. This was his fault._ _

__It was his fault._ _

__As he kneeled in front of his best friend's body, Kareem stood behind him. Keith didn't shed a single tear, at least not at first._ _

__"He was screwed doing the boss' job." A boy kneeling next to him said with a monotone voice. "He wasn't fast with his arm broken and shit, so he was shot. Police are looking for the others. They all left him and ran off."_ _

_"See you at seven, shorty! Don't forget!"_

_"Your arm's broken though, you get five thou?"_

_"It's only broken because of you, asshole."_

It was his fault. 


End file.
